A-Z of Crewt
by DolbyDigital
Summary: Credence/Newt [Asylum!AU] For the Best — "Newt?" Tina called. "Newt, are you awake?" "Yes," he said quietly, hoping that she might not hear, but of course, luck was never on his side.


_[Asylum!AU] — "Newt?" Tina called. "Newt, are you awake?" "Yes," he said quietly, hoping that she might not hear, but of course, luck was never on his side._

 **A/N** — Thanks to Carmen for the help :)

* * *

"Newt?" Tina called. "Newt, are you awake?"

"Yes," he said quietly, hoping that she might not hear, but of course, luck was never on his side.

"Oh, good," she said brightly, pushing the door all the way open and stepping into his room. "I've brought someone to meet you."

"Oh," Newt said, dread filling him at just the thought of meeting someone new — he'd never been good with people, and it had never been something he was particularly interested in learning.

Tina waited a moment, and Newt thought he was probably supposed to say something more — perhaps a _normal_ person might have — but he had no idea what. "This is Credence," she said, indicating a hunched boy standing behind her. He was dressed all in black, and even Newt could tell that his haircut was a bit unfortunate, but that wasn't enough reason for him to be here.

"Hello," Newt said; he'd left longer than he should have, he knew, but he didn't overly care.

"Credence, this is Newt," Tina said for him, likely knowing it wouldn't have even occurred to Newt that he should have introduced himself. "You're going to be sharing a room with him, I'm afraid." Credence seemed afraid — fear was something Newt could recognise in anyone; humans and animals didn't differ much in that front — and he kept his eyes to the ground and his body hunched, clearly trying to take up as little space as possible. "We don't have a lot of room," she said to Credence, her hand hovering an inch from his arm as she guided him into the room. "But I'm sure you'll get along with Newt."

She gestured for Credence to sit on the narrow bed opposite Newt — there was only a small walk-way between the beds, and Newt wasn't sure how he felt about that — and Credence did so slowly, carefully, as if he wasn't quite sure he belonged.

"Well," Tina said cheerfully, "I'll leave you two to get to know each other." She left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar — doors where never shut here, not completely, and Newt still wasn't used to the lack of privacy — but she didn't leave a bag or suitcase with Credence's belongings.

The silence grew uncomfortable — even Newt felt the itch to break it — and so Newt repeated: "Hello."

Credence looked up then, though he kept his chin tucked into his neck, and watched Newt for a moment, as thought not quite sure how to react. And when he eventually did speak, his voice sounded older than Newt had expected. "Hello, Mister Newt."

.oOo.

There was a gentle knock at the door, followed by a quiet: "Newt?" He remained silent; he didn't want to talk. "Newt, I know you're awake," Tina said, pushing the door open.

"Shh," Newt whispered, tucking Pickett into his pocket, "you can't say that."

"Newt," Tina said, annoyed, "can you pay attention, please?" Tina wasn't as patient as her sister, Queenie, but Newt much preferred her. Queenie just seemed to know too much; nothing escaped her notice.

"I am paying attention," Newt said, eyes on her shoes — there was a streak of mud on the otherwise polished surface of her right boot, but he knew from experience that she didn't particularly care for him pointing these things out.

"To _me_ , Newt," she said, sounding a little exasperated. "To what I'm saying."

He nodded, eyes flicking up to meet hers briefly before dropping back to her shoes with a loud exhale. He'd tried.

"You're not giving Credence a very warm welcome," she said. She looked disappointed; Newt hated it when she did that — it usually meant he should have done something better, and that she'd keep appearing from no where to give him her disappointed look until he actually _did_ better. Trouble was, Newt very rarely knew _how_ to do better than he was; not with people.

"I said hello," Newt said defensively. "He did too."

"Thats — That's not enough, Newt." Tina took a step closer, and Newt shifted uncomfortably — the room _really_ wasn't big enough for two people; at least Credence always tried to take up as little space as possible and never initiated conversation.

"He doesn't want to talk."

"Well then, why don't you try talking to him?"

"I don't want to talk," Newt said petulantly, but she still looked so very disappointed. "I'll try," he muttered.

"Thank you, Newt," she said, and looked so genuinely grateful that Newt couldn't exactly begrudge her for it. "That's all I ask."

.oOo.

"So," Newt said, perhaps a little too loud, and flinched when Credence jumped and turned with a surprised gasp. "So," he repeated at what was hopefully a more reasonable volume. "Uh … are … are you enjoying it here?" He winced at the question. "I — I'm sorry," he said quickly. "That — That wasn't very …"

Credence fidgeted slightly, but his eyes were back on the ground, his shoulders hunched up to his ears. Newt thought perhaps it was time to try a different tactic.

"Would you … would you like to meet Pickett?" he asked hesitantly.

"Who," Credence coughed, as though he hadn't spoken in a while. "Who's Pickett?"

"Pickett's a Bowtruckle," Newt said proudly. "I … I met him in the park." He took a moment to pull Pickett from his pocket before continuing: "Before I came here, I mean." Credence remained silent, but Newt could see his eyes through his fringe, watching him carefully. "I've got others, but Pickett … he likes to stay close." Credence still didn't say anything, but now Newt had an idea. "Do you want to hold him?"

Credence looked a little shocked, eyes flicking down to Pickett for a moment before back up to Newt's. But eye contact was hard for Newt at the best of times, and Credence had such an intensity to him that Newt had to be the first to look away.

"It's okay," he whispered to the Bowtruckle, and gently passed him over to Credence.

"What … what do I …?" Credence stuttered, staring at Pickett with shock clear on his face.

"It's okay," Newt said, much more confident now that they were talking about Pickett. "He won't hurt you. Pickett's the most gentle of all my creatures."

"Your … _creatures?_ " Credence asked incredulously — distantly, Newt registered that this was the loudest Credence had been in the week since he'd arrived; that this was the most he'd said. "They allow you to keep pets?"

"I keep them hidden," Newt said. "I protect them, you see, and … and I …"

"Where do you keep them?" Credence asked quietly, holding Pickett in his cupped hands.

"In my suitcase."

"In your … _suitcase?"_

"Yes … it's bigger on the inside, you see, so I … I can keep all my creatures near me.

Credence nodded slowly, but his attention was back to Pickett who he was staring at in confusion.

.oOo.

"How's everything going?" Queenie asked, carefully carrying a tray laden with drinks and biscuits into the room. "I brought you some hot chocolate."

"Thank you," Newt mumbled, glancing up at her quickly, eyes finding a place somewhere above her left eyebrow to remain for a moment. Credence remained silent — Newt hadn't thought it were possible, but he'd somehow found someone worse at human interaction than himself.

"Well, goodnight," she said with a kind smile — her eyes stopped on Pickett for a moment, still resting in Credence's hand, but she didn't say anything about it and Newt let out a sigh of relief at that — and backed out of the room quietly.

"You have a lot of scars," Credence whispered, but in the small room, Newt was close enough to hear. "Are they like mine?"

Newt didn't know how Credence had got his scars — hadn't really noticed Credence _had_ any scars — but shook his head and said: "No, they're from my creatures. Some of them were a bit … _reluctant_ to be rescued."

"Ah." Credence nodded, but somehow managed to keep his chin tucked into his neck.

"How — how did you get yours?" Newt asked hesitantly.

"My ma."

Newt shifted, uncomfortable.

" _You need to stop this, Newt," he hissed. "Stop pretending. Live in the real world."_

" _I — I don't want to," Newt whispered, his voice thick with tears. "You can't make me."_

" _We'll see."_

"Oh," Newt said. There wasn't much more he _could_ say; he was just thankful he'd never had to go through anything like that — that the worst injuries he'd sustained had been from his creatures.

.oOo.

"What did you do?" Credence asked quietly — the first time he'd ever initiated a conversation, as far as Newt was aware; if he was one of Newt's creatures, Newt would have known exactly what to do to reward and encourage him, but Credence was not. "Before you came here, what did you do?"

"I … not much, really," Newt said carefully. "I had my creatures."

"How long have you been here?" Newt glanced over to see Credence watching him with that intense stare of his.

"I — Since my brother got back from the war," he said. "Or … well, not long after that, I suppose."

Credence frowned, thinking. "What war?"

"There … there was a war, with my kind —"

"Your _kind_?

"Yes, I'm a … I'm a wizard."

.oOo.

There was a scream from their room and, heart pounding in his chest, Newt ran down the corridor — with a speed and determination usually reserved for his creatures — and skidded to a halt outside the door.

Inside, Credence was on the floor, screaming and crying, held down by three very large men. The scene would have been quite comical — three very large men, standing almost on top of each other to fit into the small space, being needed to subdue one boy — had it not been for the circumstances.

Even from the doorway, Newt could see deep scratches clawed into the side of Credence's face, blood beading in thin lines across his cheeks.

"Newt?" Tina said, and her voice was so carefully calm that even without the scene before him Newt would have known something was Very Wrong. "Newt, why — why don't we go get something to eat?"

She placed a hand carefully on his arm and steered him down the corridor — if he hadn't been so shocked, he might have resisted — back the way he had came.

At least Pickett was with Credence, he reasoned. Pickett would keep him as safe as he could.

.oOo.

Newt knew they had been keeping him from his room, using inane methods to keep him distracted as though he were a child. But Newt was not a child, and he knew something was going on.

He pushed open the door to their room, calling out: "Credence, are —"

The room was empty, Credence's bed stripped of all sheets, and the mattress propped up against the wall.

Newt never saw Credence again, after that night, and no one ever spoke of him.

Newt thought he might miss Credence — or perhaps he missed Pickett? But his creatures weren't quite the same after that, with no one to share them with. They didn't seem quite … _real_ anymore.

.oOo.

" _Mother?" Newt asked quietly. "What are we doing here?"_

" _You're … you're going to stay here for a while," she said. Her eyes were red as though she had been crying, but his mother didn't cry so that couldn't be it._

" _How long are we staying?"_

 _She let out a choked sound — he would have called it a sob, had he not known better — and said: "No, honey. Just you."_

" _But … but I don't want to!"_

" _Newt," she said, pulling him into a tight hug. "Newt, this isn't easy." She pressed a kiss to his cheek. "For any of us." His father coughed uncomfortably behind them. "But we'll come visit, as often as we can."_

" _Mother, is that safe?" Theseus asked as though Newt wasn't there._

" _He's not violent!" she snapped_ , _glaring over her shoulder. She turned back to Newt, kissing him once more. "You're a good boy," she whispered. "I love you."_

" _I love you to, Mum," he whispered. She was definitely crying now, and Newt had never been this scared before._

" _Hi," a woman said with a sad smile. "My name's Queenie." She waited a beat, but no one replied. "It's lovely to meet you Newt, Mrs Scamander."_

" _He'll be safe here?" his mother asked earnestly. "You'll look after him?"_

" _Of course, Mrs Scamander." She nodded, and with one final hug, turned to leave._

 _Newt heard his father say, just before they got back into their car: "It's for the best."_


End file.
